As a teacher- a “pop quiz” is a welcome impromptu assessment of how my students are performing. As a student those words used to put an immediate sense of nervousness and dread- was I prepared? Did I know the vocabulary? Was this for a grade? As a daughter- “Pop” quiz has an entirely new meaning now. It is every time another doctor or nurse comes into this room and asks my dad his name, date of birth, social security number. Sometimes followed by- “What day is it?” “Sir, do you know the month?” “Can you tell me the name of our current president?” These are all questions that my second grade students could easily rattle off on any given day. Sadly my father can not. My heart hurts.
Visiting some former writings. . .when in the moment. . .the emotions are raw.
The Daily News
When I was younger there were two rules in our house- don’t change the channel “Even if my eyes are closed I’m still watching” and God forbid- “Don’t touch the newspaper before I read it!” These were the golden rules! “I am watching the TV with my eyes closed” and “I must be the first one to read the news.” So there I would sit and wait until the newspaper was read from beginning to end by my dad before I could even think about touching it! And now the energy that it would take for him to walk to the end of the driveway remains to be found. The words are now blurry and more frustrating than informative. And so there they sit at the end of the driveway, piled high, never read, soaked with days of rain. Subscription canceled.
I wrote these a few years ago while experiencing the unthinkable-
Here is the first entry of that time-
“The Silent Struggle”
I recently found a few friends that started a blog to log in their thoughts, struggles, and daily life of their “new normal”. . . like the day you get the news that you have cancer and a determined fait with two young children at home, or the another who’s cancer has returned and is undergoing chemo-therapy while trying to maintain a household with two preteens, or a third who is slowly losing her mother to dementia. At first- I wondered why they would do this? Why would you put your every emotion on display for others to read- so raw and unfiltered. And then my “normal” changed and I was ever so grateful to read every last detail of what they had written. I read and reread and gathered information on the stages of grief- the anger, the sadness, the negotiating the un-negotiable. This past year my father was faced with a daily “silent struggle”. He began isolating himself from family on the weekly Sunday brunch. Each Sunday my mom religiously prepared a delicious feast full of bacon and all of the sinful goodness that should only come once a week. Then the grandkids headed in the pool for hours on end. My dad would silently leave the table to the retreat of his bedroom. He had always been a man of few words unless it involved his many interactions as a teacher, coach, or school administrator. Then there was also soccer and cars. However, if you didn’t stick to said topics- there wasn’t much else. My husband would consistently say- Why doesn’t your dad speak to me? He used to? Where I would reply- Don’t take it personally- that’s just him. . .
It is now 9:00 p.m. on a Thursday night. I know exactly how this night will play out in the coming hours. You will communicate with your numerous friends until the early morning, I’m thinking 3:00 a.m. sounds about right. No un-welcomed school wake-ups for at least two more weeks. Quarantine has fullye rocked our schedule to the point of non-existence, says the mother still wearing pajama pants.
You will talk, text, and game with your vast social circle.
Throughout all of the stay at home orders- I have been surprised many times by you. You have not allowed this social distancing of sorts to make you socially distant. You have found more ways than one to reach out to your friends and even cousins. You call and check on each one, making them feel special. You, who speaks to adults in two word muted phrases, does no such thing with your friends. You speak clearly in complete sentences with far more than two words. You offer advice while also complimenting them. You have a sense of humor beyond compare, and your audible laughter is heard, even through a closed door. You have a soft heart and I know you would do anything for anyone. . .
Even your brother, who is not always kind to you.
You see, Son, you are all of the parts your older brother isn’t. You two could not be more different. Your appearances. Your interests. Your personalities. Your tastes. The two of you are essentially complete opposites. He has a small group of close friends. You have many. He is quiet and subdued. You make your entrance known. He likes working within a team. You don’t mind being the center of attention. He wears tailored solid colored clothing, drawing no attention to himself. You pick the loudest, most colorful, and patterned shirts available. He stresses himself regarding just about everything. You stress yourself about nothing. He eats pasta, pasta, and more pasta. You eat meat, meat, and more meat. He is tall and slender. You are taller and husky.
I love you both- equally.
I love that you are both so very different. I love that you together, complete a puzzle with all of the parts. I love that I have two boys who continually show me the very best parts of life on full display. My hope is that you learn to embrace your unique qualities. I hope that you both acknowledge what makes you different, makes you special. The parts of you, unlike anyone else, are the very parts that people will remember. But, they are also the parts that will make you self-conscious in the near future, where no one likes to stand out. My hope for you is that you will never doubt yourself or your brother’s love for you- even though he sometimes has a funny way of showing it.
You are a team- forever more.
I knew when I entered this parenting gig, I never wanted an only child. I grew up with an older brother, so I wanted the same for you. My older brother, your uncle, paved the way for me by doing everything first. He made it a little less scary when it was my turn. He was always kind to me and he could do no wrong in my book. I relished in his accomplishments, almost as proud as if I had earned them myself. I attended more soccer games than any younger sister ever should, but I went willingly. He was in his element, and I was proud to witness it. He continues to this day to be a supportive force; lending an ear when I need someone to talk to, offering much needed advice in times where I haven’t a clue and showing up at all those important life events- just his presence puts others at ease.
Son, family is important.
You are important. Your brother is important. And as you grow, my wish is that you find the importance in each other. He is part of your built-in blood-born social circle. He is the one you will depend on in the future. He is the one that will offer the needed advice. He is the one that will support you at life’s most important events.
Son, you are not alone. Nor will you ever be, it was deliberate–
It is now 9:00 p.m. on a Thursday night. I know exactly how this night will play out in the coming hours. You will communicate with your numerous friends until the early morning, I’m thinking 3:00 a.m. sounds about right. No un-welcomed school wake-ups for at least two more weeks. Quarantine has fully rocked our schedule to the point of non-existence, says the mother still wearing pajama pants.
You will talk, text, and game with your vast social circle.
Throughout all of the stay at home orders- I have been surprised many times by you. You have not allowed this social distancing of sorts to make you socially distant. You have found more ways than one to reach out to your friends and even cousins. You call and check on each one, making them feel special. You, who speaks to adults in two word muted phrases, does no such thing with your friends. You speak clearly in complete sentences with far more than two words. You offer advice while also complimenting them. You have a sense of humor beyond compare, and your audible laughter is heard, even through a closed door. You have a soft heart and I know you would do anything for anyone. . .
Even your brother, who is not always kind to you.
You see, Son, you are all of the parts your older brother isn’t. You two could not be more different. Your appearances. Your interests. Your personalities. Your tastes. The two of you are essentially complete opposites. He has a small group of close friends. You have many. He is quiet and subdued. You make your entrance known. He likes working within a team. You don’t mind being the center of attention. He wears tailored solid colored clothing, drawing no attention to himself. You pick the loudest, most colorful, and patterned shirts available. He stresses himself regarding just about everything. You stress yourself about nothing. He eats pasta, pasta, and more pasta. You eat meat, meat, and more meat. He is tall and slender. You are taller and husky.
I love you both- equally.
I love that you are both so very different. I love that you together, complete a puzzle with all of the parts. I love that I have two boys who continually show me the very best parts of life on full display. My hope is that you learn to embrace your unique qualities. I hope that you both acknowledge what makes you different, makes you special. The parts of you, unlike anyone else, are the very parts that people will remember. But, they are also the parts that will make you self-conscious in the near future, where no one likes to stand out. My hope for you is that you will never doubt yourself or your brother’s love for you- even though he sometimes has a funny way of showing it.
You are a team- forever more.
I knew when I entered this parenting gig, I never wanted an only child. I grew up with an older brother, so I wanted the same for you. My older brother, your uncle, paved the way for me by doing everything first. He made it a little less scary when it was my turn. He was always kind to me and he could do no wrong in my book. I relished in his accomplishments, almost as proud as if I had earned them myself. I attended more soccer games than any younger sister ever should, but I went willingly. He was in his element, and I was proud to witness it. He continues to this day to be a supportive force; lending an ear when I need someone to talk to, offering much needed advice in times where I haven’t a clue and showing up at all those important life events- just his presence puts others at ease.
Son, family is important.
You are important. Your brother is important. And as you grow, my wish is that you find the importance in each other. He is part of your built-in blood-born social circle. He is the one you will depend on in the future. He is the one that will offer the needed advice. He is the one that will support you at life’s most important events.
Son, you are not alone. Nor will you ever be, it was deliberate–
I have officially been declared a “singleton” this week. It is now legally binding. I have the finalinvoice and stamped approved documents to prove it. Although you did not participate in the final dissolution of marriage hearing, it was accomplished in a thirty minute conference call, the female judge, my attorney, and myself. An anti-climatic end to fifteen years of marriage. Everyone was friendly. Non-abrasive. Not judgmental. And as uncomfortable as the situation was, they made it as painless as possible.
I thought this day would be so different.
I was not expecting the nauseous stomach all day as the minutes for the phone call crept closer. I was not expecting the audible nervousness in my voice as I answered the questions, many times having to repeat myself for clarity. I was not expecting to be asked if I was expecting more than once. I was not prepared to have fifteen years of my life, life decisions, finances, and children summed up like this.
Fifteen years of a life. . . summed up in one thirty minute conference call.
I thought I would feel relief. I thought I would feel like I had finally made it. I thought I would feel the exhale. And all I felt was nauseous– and not because I was expecting. . .why do they even ask that? And why do they ask it three times? I was not expecting five minutes ago. Two minutes later- yep, still not.
Immaculate conception still yet to occur in the last 20 minutes.
This conference call was a long awaited event. And I still don’t understand any of it. Why the wait? Why the fight? Why now? It doesn’t make any sense. That is one of the deepest lessons I have learned this year- sometimes life’s events and life’s decisions just don’t make any sense. I have grappled, over-analyzed and over-questioned more than I would like to admit in my search for answers.
Sometimes. . .there just aren’t any. . . as much as I hate to admit it.
I don’t understand why you decided to fight for a marriage you did not take part in- the boys and I would have liked nothing more than you to spend time with us. Your love for self came far before your love for me. I don’t understand why the words leaving your lips didn’t match your actions– how does one confess his undying love for his wife, while also joining dating sites in search of a next companion? Your action-less words began to fall on deaf ears. I don’t understand how you can call me your best friend, when you concealed information daily and did not defend my honor to your family. Your idea of a friendship, and a best one at that, needs a quick revamp. I don’t understand why you saved your biggest fight for this battle?
This was not a marriage worth fighting for.
This was not the give and take. This was not the life gets better because you’re in it relationship. This was not the union that is a marriage. I am disheartened that you thought otherwise. I am sad that it took a seemingly endless fight to get to this day, over two years later. I am sickened that the money spent could have paid for more than a year of college or a first car for one of our sons. It didn’t have to be this way.
Money wasted on a winning-less fight.
And why? Why now? Why not then? Then when I begged for more help with the boys. Then when I pleaded for you to communicate. Then when I cried for you to be part of the we. And each year as the holidays arrived, our once a year stress-filled yelling match would take place like clockwork. Predictable- parents are visiting, no help given until the last second, and usually facing a financial mess I was not privy to– clockwork.
And now the clock of our marriage is out of minutes.
We now find ourselves in a very different place than where this fight began. We have established two different homes for our sons. We have started our new beginnings. We now can see the errors of our ways. We no longer fight. We now communicate, texting seems to be the answer. We now spend time with our boys, separately but each taking a vital role. And we now share our finances to pay for the boys’ needs, no more seasonal discoveries of financial messes. We, are now no longer. We, are now singletons. We, are now separate. But we now work better than ever.
Separate but one united front for our boys.
August 4, 2020 will now be marked as a significant day for our family. A day without the negative implications possible. We do not hate each other. We are not toxic. We are not vengeful. We are two people who rushed a life decision. One of life’s biggest decisions should have been given far more time and forethought. I am sorry that we did not honor it, with that. We met after failed relationships. We both wanted validation. We wanted to know we were worthy of being loved. Validation we were wanted. Validation we were needed.
Marriage is so much more than that.
Marriage is a union. It is a partnership. It is a working together. Marriage is intimacy. It is a yearning for someone else. It is an undefinable chemistry. Marriage is communication. It is finishing a partner’s sentence before the words are spoken. It is speaking with just an expression, no words needed. It is full truth, no secrets. Marriage is an addition, not a take-away. It is the added bonus of a life partner. It is the my life is better because he/she is in it.
Marriage like this. . . is worth fighting for.
And so I did. I fought. I fought for a fresh start. I fought for what I know a relationship or marriage is capable of being. No, I will NOT be remarrying. I would be most content with just a partner who is willing to choose me over and over again, without being legally obligated to do so. But it is my hope, you will remarry. I hope you discover all the ways love, marriage and a union should be. All of the ways our marriage fell short.
You are so deserving to be loved and you should be.
I may be secretly pulling for the woman you know who makes the most amazing homemade chocolate chip cookies- but that’s just me. I hope, as time passes, you discover the love for which our marriage did not provide for you. I hope you find the one. I hope you find. . . her. I hope you find your partner, your best friend. The one who ignites your soul each time you see her. The one who finishes your sentences. The one who speaks without saying a word. The one who makes your life more just for being in it.
elizabethavron 